Harry Potter & the Semiorder of the Phoenix
by dark energy
Summary: Fifth year didn't even start out the way it should have for Harry Potter, and it certainly doesn't look like it's going to end normally...R&R, mainly because it keeps me busy~! :)
1. Chapter 1 Owl Post Again

Chapter 1. Owl Post.Again!  
  
Number four, Privet Drive was a perfectly groomed house that perfectly resembled all the other houses on the block. Its hedges were neatly trimmed and a colorful, leafy riot of flowers was in full bloom. But there was one thing about it that was not ordinary at all. The boy asleep in the smallest bedroom was not what he appeared to be. He, Harry, was a wizard who had just come back from his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Britain, where Albus Dumbledore was the headmaster, where he was the youngest Seeker (not anymore since it's now fifth year) in a hundred years on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and where Professor Severus Snape was his least favorite teacher. At any rate, the even more unusual scar on his forehead was the one thing that distinguished him from even those in the wizarding world. Due to this scar and its extremely unusual properties, he, Harry, was experiencing a vision of sorts while asleep.  
  
Wormtail, a.k.a. Peter Pettigrew, a man presumed dead for thirteen years and revealed to be alive in Harry's third year at Hogwarts, had captured Hermione, one of Harry's two best friends. She was sitting in a corner of the cylindrical room, (hey, it's magic.anything's possible.) where Wormtail was raising his wand. "Crucio!" he shrieked, in his rather high-pitched and mousy voice. "No, no, no!" Hermione wailed. "You're doing it all wrong! It's Cru-u-u-cio, make the 'u' nice and long!" Wormtail sniffed, almost resembling the rat he could transform into at will. "Yeah, well, if you're such a smart little Mudblood, why don't you try it?" he practically shouted. Unfortunately enough, Hermione smiled slightly and pointed her wand at him, as calm as if she'd been practicing the spell herself. "Cru-u-u-cio!" she shouted, pointing her wand straight at Wormtail. He screamed in pain. Hermione put her wand back silently and glared at him. "Any other spells you want?" she asked coldly. "Well, then, I'm leaving now. I must go to the library, you see."  
  
Harry woke up, gasping audibly in shock. After all, Hermione, one of his best friends since first year at Hogwarts, the school of magic he went to, had just defeated Wormtail without even blinking an eye! What was going on? He, Harry, sighed unhappily with the effort of pondering the odd sequence of events, then went downstairs from the smallest bedroom to prepare breakfast for his cruel aunt and uncle. Harry slowly stepped down the staircase, wishing term had started already, when he heard the doorbell ring. Harry jumped down the last six steps, landing catlike on his feet so as to not make any nose.  
  
Before he could reach the door, however, Uncle Vernon opened it to an old woman selling tea cozies. If Dobby had been there, perhaps he would have wanted a new one, but the world may never know. As it happens, Uncle Vernon was not a tea cozy fan. Ever since he had discovered Dudley's secret tea cozy collection (which was what Dudley had really been spending his allowance on-no wonder he lost a couple of grams!) Uncle Vernon had been inclined to become extremely infuriated at anyone who even mentioned the word. After all, tea cozies were only for old ladies (and house-elves, if he'd known what they were.)! So there Uncle Vernon was, standing at the door, being hassled by a desperate old lady wanting to sell a couple of tea cozies.  
  
Much to Harry's (and most likely, the entire world's) astonishment, Uncle Vernon furtively looked around, hoping nosy Aunt Petunia was gone, and pulled out.a wand. "Obliviate!" he shouted. The old lady gasped, stared blankly at him, and walked away, but only after wishing him a 'nice Bastille Day'. Uncle Vernon sighed and walked back in, muttering 'damned Muggles' under his breath. He, Harry, stared wide-eyed at his uncle in shock. Just as Harry was recollecting his extremely dazed nerves, a group of Ministry wizards Apparated and led him off. One of them looked up at Harry and said, "It's not his first offense.I'm guessing a trial, you know." Harry could say or do nothing.  
  
Overlooked in the corner was a tiny little bubble. Although bubbles were quite common (perhaps it was those neighborhood children again), bubbles with random faces in them were not so common. The bubble quickly popped before anyone had a chance to see the face which Harry, and possibly his uncle, aunt, and cousin (if they'd actually been paying close attention, which is very unlikely) would have recognized.  
  
Just as the Ministry wizards had seated Uncle Vernon in a rather ordinary-looking car and sped off at about 350 km per hour, Aunt Petunia yawned and came down the staircase. She glared at Harry, her bony neck craning outward. "What're you doing?" "Er-nothing, not at all," Harry said, still trying to comprehend the sudden series of events. Aunt Petunia sighed and walked right past Harry without even replying. Just to add to the events, an owl swooped in through an open window and dropped a letter on Harry's head. He opened it and looked at what was written.  
  
-the letter-  
  
Come soon with your stuff. I will be waiting at the corner of Privet Drive.  
  
--A friend.  
  
-the letter's end-  
  
Harry frowned thoughtfully. He didn't know who the person could be, as he'd never seen that handwriting. And the owl was just a common brown owl, easily obtained. Having no other options except for staying at the empty house (Aunt Petunia and Dudley having gone off to the police station to report Uncle Vernon's mysterious disappearance), Harry packed his trunk, took Hedwig, and ran out to the corner. There, waiting for him, was Hermione Granger. 


	2. Chapter 2 The Odd Journey

Chapter 2. The Odd Journey.  
  
*A/N: Apologies for the delay! (Homework really stinks.) Rereading the story might clear any confusion.  
  
"Er-Hermione, what are you doing here? I thought you were captured by Wormtail!" Harry exclaimed, too shocked to act normal. Hermione looked bemused. "What do you mean? I was helping my parents out, and I got an owl from Dumbledore to pick you up!" She beckoned to a rather sporty little Corvette. "Isn't it nice? My parents gave it to me for my 15th birthday, and I've been practicing driving in it!" Harry was amazed at the amount of wealth her parents must have to give her such an expensive car, until he noticed Hermione was walking to a beat-up old minivan directly across the street. "Come on, Harry!" Hermione's mother was sitting in the driver's seat. "Why, hello, you must be Harry Potter. Hermione's told us all about you!" Harry shrugged and loaded his stuff into the trunk. The car rumbled to a start and they drove off, away from No. 4, Privet Drive and Harry's old life.  
  
In the car, Hermione quickly turned to Harry. "Whatever happened? After all, that owl Dumbledore said to come fast!"  
  
Harry sighed and stared blankly at Hermione. "But shouldn't you know? After all, you were-oh, never mind. My Uncle Vernon turned out to be a wizard!"  
  
Hermione stared anxiously at him. "Are you sure? I've read all about shape-shifters, Chameleon Ghouls, and you should know about Polyjuice Potion. What if it wasn't your uncle?" Trust Hermione to come up with a more logical answer than anyone.  
  
Er-I hadn't thought of that really," Harry stammered. "But- then I got your owl and I came straight to the curb, and you know the rest."  
  
Hermione sat for a moment in silence, thinking. Then she turned back to Harry. "I think I'd better prepare you," she said. Harry was confused; after all, Hermione had never kept any secrets from him and Ron, except for the Time Turner in their third year that had helped save Sirius Black's (Harry's godfather) and Buckbeak's lives. Hermione interrupted his rather confused succession of thoughts. "Harry, you know all that recent controversy over cloning?" Harry merely nodded, unable to think of the possible directions being taken. "Well, it turns out human cloning's been perfected for a long time." A long pause, then-much to Harry's astonishment, "I-I guess I have a twin." Hermione began a rapid tirade of explanations. "You see-well-when I was born, my parents wanted two of me because the government was paying us well for it-and, we needed the money, you see-so they basically cloned me and so there's two of me, and my clone's-er, twin's-name is Myrtle, because she was raised by some old couple in a far-off region. You'd better be nice to her, Harry-she's got magic too, just not enough to get her into Hogwarts."  
  
He, Harry, stared in astonishment. This was the most bizarre thing he'd ever heard, ever since he'd found out that he had some of Voldemort's powers because of the curse scar he'd gotten. Of course, he had only learned about this in his second year after defeating Tom Riddle's memory by destroying the diary, and then he'd learned about the bizarre connection between their wands his fourth year after having been forced to duel Voldemort near the grave of his dead father. (Actually, it was the grave of his living father. voice drips with sarcasm)  
  
*A/N: OK, let's face it; we should all know that there's only one reason there's a clone in this. Satires have to insult something; this will be explained further on.. or will it?  
  
Harry sighed. "Well, Hermione, I-er-guess I saw your twin then, but she can, er, perform the Cruciatus Curse!"  
  
Hermione groaned. "Knew I shouldn't have mentioned curse spells to her. This was so expectable! But then again, I guess it makes a more interesting plot!" A random groan reminded Hermione that she wasn't supposed to give the story line away. She pulled out her wand and quickly erased that memory, then Transfigured this paragraph to make it fit properly. "Harry, listen-be extremely polite to Myrtle, okay? And whatever you do, don't mention Moaning Myrtle. It might create some-er- interesting results."  
  
At Hermione's house, another owl was awaiting. It was from Ron, and read, 'Hermione-I just got a note from Dumbledore. Says you should probably do something about your clone before she turns Harry into a rodent or something." Oh great. Although Hermione knew where The Burrow was, she didn't want to drive there immediately. Waiting a couple of hours couldn't hurt, so she decided to straighten the 64 pictures in her room of Gilderoy Lockhart, who had managed to regain his memory with a few minor changes, conveniently placed by the Ministry of Magic to prevent any further plagiarized books. "Harry-wait in the drawing room for a minute, would you?" He, Harry, obediently complied.  
  
While he was lounging on the couch (at the Dursleys' house, he had been denied this privilege since they were particularly cruel to him), Hermione walked back downstairs. "Oh, back already, Hermione?" Darn. He'd been hoping to examine any unusual properties his pinkies might have had. Hermione grinned, but there was something unusual. Her oversized teeth were the same-maybe it was the fact that she'd never grinned evilly before? Whatever it was, Harry was oblivious to the change.  
  
"Harry, may I try a little minor spell on you? It should make your life more interesting." Harry complied, as Voldemort hadn't even tried to kill him recently and he was quite bored. After Hermione muttered a few words and cast the spell, Harry sat down on the couch once again (she'd walked away to comb her hair or something).  
  
It was just then that Harry remembered the Hermione he'd known had had her teeth resized after Malfoy cast that spell on her. 


	3. Chapter 3 An 'Interesting' Discovery

Chapter 3. An 'Interesting' Discovery.  
  
Harry moaned, twisting in agony on the couch. After all, it had been exactly 15.39 minutes since he'd last eaten anything, and he, Harry, was quite hungry. (Teenagers do need their food supply!) Hermione anxiously came downstairs, wondering at the noise. "Harry, what's wrong?"  
  
Harry blushed. "Oh, nothing really-I'm just a little hungry." He frowned suddenly, realizing that something odd had just happened. "What just happened?" Hermione shook her head and strode into the kitchen. She pulled a box of Oreos out of the pantry and tossed it to Harry. Now he could really tell something was unusual, as some music had played when he'd caught the box. "Hermione-is this a music box or something? What kind of a prank is this?" Hermione whirled around and denied the allegations. For a moment, Harry was tempted to sue her-until he noticed the source of the music.  
  
Every time he, Harry, moved his right hand, a song (the one they play repeatedly during the movie) started playing. Intrigued by this, he raised his pinkie, then suddenly stopped in the middle of a note. Amused, Harry walked over to finish some immensely nasty Potions homework for his least favorite teacher, Professor Severus Snape, who intensely loathed him. He noticed that the music didn't play while he was walking, and was disappointed until he noticed it played only whenever he moved his right hand. Laughing loudly, he started writing the essay, quill scratching on parchment, and music playing in the background.  
  
Finally, Hermione, who was too practical to stand it any longer, slammed her half-empty glass of milk onto the counter. "Stop that abomination!" she shrieked angrily. He, Harry, innocently stared at her.  
  
"What's wrong, Hermione? I'm just completing some homework." Hermione, who was a devout fan of learning, would surely be unable to argue this point. Astonishingly enough, she stomped over and, in an event even more astonishing than the time she quit Divination and slapped Malfoy third year, ripped Harry's homework to shreds. "Hey!" Harry said, outraged. Much as he didn't want to admit it, he really did need to complete that assignment. Hermione gave him a dangerous look, eyes narrowed to slits exactly like a cat's-wait, what had happened to Crookshanks? Unable to constrain his curiosity, Harry asked, "I know this is really random, Hermione, but where's Crookshanks?" in a futile attempt to save the remaining shreds of his work.  
  
However, he was not so lucky. Hermione crumpled the parchment into a ball, and tossed it for a perfect shot into the nearby trash can. "Crookshanks? He's around-I think he has a new friend." She giggled slightly, but snapped back into murderous mode when Harry's right hand accidentally twitched and the music started playing again.  
  
"Stop that abomination!" Fortunately, a tapping at the window prevented Harry's near-certain strangling. Looking up suddenly with still red-glazed eyes, Hermione relaxed enough to open the window and let the poor disturbed owl drop its message off.  
  
-the second message-  
  
Please bring Harry to The Burrow immediately as it is not safe if he, Harry, remains at your house much longer. You know how this goes-it is somewhat like the time when you thought Sirius Black was after him, only he was after Peter Pettigrew in third year.  
  
--Another friend.  
  
P.S. Please refrain from stealing my normal title in the future. I am a random friend, not you. P.P.S. Don't be too blatantly obvious. You know who this is.  
  
-the second message's end-  
  
Hermione sighed, quickly scanning the letter. "Alright Harry, we shall be going to Ron's house now. And DON'T MOVE THAT HAND!" Harry meekly obeyed, as he felt Hermione could probably find a way to make him die an extremely painful death. However, Hermione merely ignored his unusual apprehensiveness-after all, Harry was quite the risk-taker-and shouted up the stairs. "Mom! We'd better go now!" The three piled Harry's belongings, including Hedwig the owl-who hooted softly when patted on the head (actually, she grunted.who says owls can't be weird?)-into the van. They reached Ron's house by following a long and rather bumpy country route.  
  
When they reached the chicken coop, that was exactly what they saw. Ron's house had been built on an old chicken coop, and now it was gone. He, Harry, was astonished. After all, everything in the story supposedly happened to him! What was this strange new development?  
  
*A/N: Have you noticed all the good stuff that is reiterated happens third year? R&R.* 


	4. Chapter 4 A Minor Detail

Chapter 4. A Minor Detail.  
  
"RON!" Harry and Hermione ran around the empty yard screaming his name. Mostly by coincidence (and partly because he wanted to see what would happen), Harry stepped on the tail feathers of an unusual black rooster that he had not seen before. It squawked furiously, and exactly like that desk McGonagall had transfigured in first year, rapidly changed into The Burrow. A loud thud in front of them made Harry and Hermione look at the entrance, where. . .Cho Chang stood, staring curiously at them. He, Harry, blushed furiously. After all, by some convenience obviously intended to benefit him, Cho stared at him curiously. Perhaps he'd have a chance with her after he found the Weasleys. She was the Seeker for the Ravenclaw team, the same position he held on the Gryffindor team, and had denied his invitation to the Yule Ball last year (which Harry still seethed about, even though his competition tragically was now gone).  
  
However, the next phrase, called from the house by Ron, dashed Harry's excited thoughts to very tiny pieces. "Oy! Cho darling, who is it?" Harry sputtered furiously (and also because his pride was ruined). "What-Cho DARLING?!"  
  
Cho blushed slightly. "Oh Harry, didn't you know? Ron and I have been going, er, steady since the beginning of the summer." Poor Harry, so horrified by this fact, keeled over. Ron stuck his head out of the house, looked at Cho, and cruelly said, "Don't worry-he's still got Myrtle." Hermione, who had stood there for the past five minutes figuring out how The Burrow was linked to a rooster, groaned. "Ron. . .here's something I have to tell you. Try not to be too surprised, would you?" As Ron stepped outside, Harry lay mercifully unconscious on the ground while he put his arm around Cho. "What is it, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione rapidly explained her story, while giving Harry's unconscious form quick, worried glances as if he might die at any moment. Fortunately (both Ron and Cho were starting to become twitchy as well), Harry moaned and stirred. Cho had the presence of mind to push Ron's arm away, as he, Harry Potter, levered himself up on his right hand.  
  
The same music began to play again, and then Hermione kicked Harry into the mud, rendering him unconscious once more. "Oops-guess I got a little overenthusiastic. Do you want to help me find a counterspell?" Ron shrugged noncommittally, so they managed to drag Harry onto the living room couch, and then went up to Ron's room.  
  
Hermione, who was the top student in her class (an accomplishment that greatly peeved Draco Malfoy since she was a Muggle), explained how the original spell was cast. Cho, a year ahead of them, suddenly blinked in recognition. "Oh, I know how those spells work, but the counterspell can only be cast with the original creator's permission. I assume your clone- er, twin, wouldn't be too willing to help us?" Hermione furiously shook her head. "In that case, the most you can do is place a locking spell to prevent the music, until you find an effective way to blackmail Myrtle." Deciding not to futilely waste time determining the counterspell, they decided to eat something (all being teenagers, implying large appetites of course).  
  
At the bottom of the stairs, Mrs. Weasley walked up to them. She was a short, plump woman with flaming red hair, exactly like the other Weasleys. "Ron! Why is your friend looking so hungry?" After giving Ron a dirty look, she sympathetically invited Hermione to have a glass of milk and Oreos.  
  
*A/N: Quick disclaimer-I don't own the Oreo sandwich cookie company. Whoever does also owns this name. And, in case the first part was missed, all characters/places I didn't invent belong to J.K. Rowling (and probably the publishing company too). And PLEASE review! Why? Because I said so. . . . Just kidding. ^-^ *  
  
Over the food, Cho explained how to perform a locking spell, while Hermione nodded as she committed the spell to memory. They began discussing spell theories and preparations for the O.W.L.s, as fifth-years had to take them. Animatedly discussing these items, they didn't notice that Ron had persuaded his mother to perform the locking spell on Harry's right hand (for some odd reason, Mrs. Weasley didn't ask any questions about his presence, she only clucked over the extremely painful-looking bump on the back of his head).  
  
Harry's sudden awakening, and then a very odd noise disrupted Hermione's statement about cross-species transfiguration. 


	5. Chapter 5 The Ensuing Difficulties

Chapter 5. The Ensuing Difficulties.  
  
*A/N: Oops, I forgot to finish the chapter. -_-;; But now it's done! Any strange and unusual plot twist suggestions? Review them, of course. . .pulls out magic hypnotizing rod You shall do what I say. You shall review! And then, you shall send me lots of fine chocolates. . .*  
  
Harry hooted as he sat up, and then blinked in surprise. He, Harry, hadn't known he could hoot so realistically, until he noticed it was actually Hedwig carrying a note. He opened the note, but before he could read it, Mrs. Weasley told him to bring some money and dress so they could go to Diagon Alley. After buying all the necessary items for Fred, George, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Harry (Cho had already bought her things before coming to Ron's house), they had a quick birthday celebration for Harry at The Leaky Cauldron.  
  
Harry excitedly reached for a spoon to dig into the ice cream with, but then he realized he couldn't move his right hand! Remembering suddenly blacking out after Hermione's extremely painful smack, he decided to ignore the problem and eat with his left hand.  
  
However, he, Harry, was not particularly ambidextrous-he'd faced similar difficulties second year after Gilderoy Lockhart de-boned his arm- so the meal involved some unpleasantly chilly ice cream sliding down his shirt at one point. Speaking of which. . ."Say, do any of you know who's going to be our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year?" All of them shook their heads, but Hermione exasperatedly pulled out the list of books they'd had to buy. Several titles by Gilderoy Lockhart-gone unnoticed since Harry already had the full set for a change-were written there, including Gadding With Ghouls and Magical Me. "What the. . . . Do you really think he's back?"  
  
Hermione blushed slightly, shaking her head. "He's been given a minor job in the Ministry, enough to keep him quiet. You know, distract him from everything. I believe they made sure he didn't remember all of those Memory Charms, you know. Wonder who the new teacher is?" Ron and Harry concurred, and then turned back to eating ice cream (or, in Harry's case, attempting to eat ice cream).  
  
At the platform, the Weasleys still in school, Cho, Ron, Hermione, and Harry barely looked at the entrance back to the Muggle world. They quickly found compartments on the train, and then turned to more pressing matters. "Oy, Harry, you think Voldemort's going to come after you soon?" Everyone suddenly stared at Ron, asking with their eyes what was wrong with him. However, he merely grinned. "Oh, Percy showed me some old report of his life, whatever, and then-" At this point, Ron simply broke off into wild bursts of laughter. "You. . .you. . .know. . .who's got. . .POLLEN!" Cho put her hand on his shoulder, concerned about any poisoned foods he might have eaten. "Oh, sorry-did you know Voldemort's allergic to ragweed and pollen?" At this point, Ron fell off his seat, as the laughter he'd held back to say one full sentence overtook him. However, the other three did not share this reaction.  
  
"Uh, Ron, how is that going to help us stop Voldemort?" Harry was confused; was it even possible for wizards to have allergies? Before Ron was able to recover, Hermione rolled her eyes and her hand shot into the air. Remembering that they weren't in the classroom, she quickly dropped her hand and replied, "All we have to do is steal You-I mean Voldemort's medication, and then he probably wouldn't be able to fight properly. I'm not sure though"-here Hermione assumed the look she always had when recalling information from some obscure book-"since he's a reassumed form now.Harry, do you have any allergies?" He, Harry, turned a light maroon color. (Have you noticed they blush a lot?) "Er-I can't eat mollusks or drink orange juice on Friday afternoons before sunset." Cho, the only one still functioning normally (Hermione had fallen into recollections from an obscure text and Ron still rolled on the ground), asked Harry, "Where'd the orange juice thing come from?" When reassured of the fact that it was some perverse effect of the curse spell that had killed his parents and given him the scar, she changed the topic. "Was your homework difficult?"  
  
Harry's heart sunk so rapidly he choked. "H-homework? Er. . .I know, I'll do it now!" As he reached for his trunk, he suddenly noticed two things. "Oh no-the trunks are stored, aren't they?" and "My hand. . .Hermione! Please?" Hermione merely ignored his pleading expression, having learned it from the week she'd spent in Bulgaria being asked by shopowners to buy magical goods she already had. "Oh, speaking of which, did I tell you about the wonderful time I had in Bulgaria?" Ron (who had finally managed to stop, save an occasional giggle) stared out the window and attempted to ignore Hermione's detailed descriptions of how amazing Krum was, and how kind his parents were, so on. He missed the one hint that Hermione made about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts (D.A.D.A.) teacher, unfortunately.  
  
After an immense amount of disgruntled waiting-briefly interrupted by intense sugar highs-they reached Hogwarts, where the horse-drawn carts awaited them. For the second time, Harry would have a chance to witness the Sorting. However, something odd was going on. Being shorter than many others, he, Harry, managed to squeeze through to the front line, where nervous (and slightly damp) first years awaited the Sorting. "Hallo, Harry! Good to see ye! But shouldn't ye be at yer table?" In extreme embarrassment, Harry realized that the multitudes of people far taller than him all happened to be first years. 'Okay, I really need to grow,' he thought.  
  
After reaching his table, a gradual silence fell over the returning students-and it wasn't even for him. The Sorting Hat opened its brim wide, and said,  
  
I'm really tired of coming up with this crap  
So I think I'll try some freestyle rap  
  
You all can see  
  
I'm a Sorting Hat, best as can be!  
  
I know which houses you'd like  
  
But you'll feel like you were stabbed on a pike  
  
When I Sort you into the house you most hate  
  
And guarantee this-to class you'll surely be late!  
  
Oh, you stupid little munchkin first years  
  
Never satisfied, always dripping tears  
  
THIS YEAR'S GONNA BE THE WORST!  
  
Just watch me.  
  
Not surprisingly, a few of the first years burst into sobs. Draco Malfoy's cousin, Sinus 'Trouble' Malfoy immediately ended up in Hufflepuff and ran away sobbing while attempting to cast a seventh-year curse spell without his wand at the same time. Ron looked on in horror as his sister's best friend, Connie, who practically acted like a Weasley, immediately ended up in Slytherin.  
  
Dumbledore, who let purple sparks fly out of his wand and cast a silencing spell on them all, immediately silenced the first years' sobs. "Listen-I don't know what has gotten into this hat, but we shall find out the problem immediately!" A careful whisper to the hat, and a large ruby the size of an egg suddenly became dislodged. "Ah-this was the problem! Did any of you know magical hats could have wedgies? Just kidding actually. . .the stone acted as a Memory Charm for some odd reason! Which reminds me of this joke. . .but perhaps it isn't the proper time. Will all first years please come down to be re-Sorted?"  
  
After the first years completed their re-Sorting, only one House change was made. This was, obviously, to Trouble Malfoy, who ended up in Gryffindor instead.  
  
The feast finally began, and all dug into their food, except Harry, who still couldn't use his right hand. He eventually managed, however, and the evening ended with them exhaustedly heading up to the same dormitories and following the same routine they'd gone through since second year (except this time the dormitory signs read 'Fifth Years' on them).  
  
Inside the dormitory, Harry frantically pulled out his two major assignments (a seventy page paper on the most notorious witches and wizards of all time for History of Magic and a 200 page essay on potions that put people to sleep, complete with test results). But how was he to do them if he couldn't move his right arm? Conveniently for Harry, Hermione was waiting in the commons room, forewarned about an event similar to this one.  
  
"Okay, Harry, I already duplicated my homework for you, and don't worry-I changed some of the major fonts and the print so that it seems like you wrote it. Oh yes, I can't help you with Divinations, but maybe Ron can do something about that." In complete astonishment, a stunned Harry dazedly wandered back up to his room (did I make his feelings entirely clear? no?) and collapsed on the floor, brain unable to comprehend the strangeness of Hermione copying an assignment for him.  
  
After twenty minutes of lying there bemusedly, Harry walked over to Ron and poked him. "Can you copy my homework?" Ron replied yes, and cast the exact spell Hermione had used. "Hermione taught me this-said I might need it." He, Harry, was astonishingly confused. Hermione was, after all, acting like she knew the future, but Professor Trelawney, the Divinations teacher, said she had almost no aura (and even if the professor was an old bat in outsize specs, she probably was right about Hermione). . .but this implied Hermione could see the future! She hadn't picked up any Time Turners, had she? Harry actually dropped to his knees and looked heavenward, searching for an answer to his question.  
  
A loud voice amazed him. "Uh, Harry? What are you doing?" Who could it be other than Ron? Harry was disappointed that no one had answered him, but relieved that only Ron had seen him in that stance. Satisfied with nothing (but not really caring all the same), Harry gratefully took the disaster predictions for the next seventeen months and headed back to bed.  
  
*A/N: Was it really Hermione who gave Harry the homework? The right kind of music plays Find out next time. . .Oh, this isn't a TV series. Damn. . .* 


	6. Chapter 6 A Special First Morning

*A/N: Whee…this thing is long!  -_-;;  I'm going back to sleep now.*

Chapter 6.  A Special First Morning.

            Yawning slightly, Harry woke up, dressed, and went down for breakfast.  He would have waited awhile for Ron, but (fortunately) noticed a note that read, 'Be down for Quidditch practice.'  Wondering who the new captain would be, Harry yawned and headed down, once tripping over a rug that happened to be water (pulled off by Peeves, of course) and sliding all the way down to the hall.  Everyone was there, plus a tall second-year Harry realized was Colin Creevey's brother, Dennis.  Confused, he questioningly turned to the twins and said, "How'd he get so tall?"

            Fred and George grinned and said, "Potions class."  Harry wondered if there was some way to bring Dennis back to normal because he felt so short, then decided not to mention anything.  Perhaps no one else would notice he was the shortest person on the team….

            A sudden statement by Dennis shattered his hopes.  "Wow, Harry!  Colin's told me all about you!  He said Seekers were usually smaller and faster, like you are!"  Poor Harry tried to eat his toast and ignore the muffled sniggers of the other breakfasters sitting in the hall.  "Er—maybe we should just start practicing now.  Who's the captain?"

Alicia Spinnet, one of the Chasers, smiled.  "I'm the temporary captain.  But we're considering making Angelina the captain, since it's her last year."  Harry's heart sank slightly as he imagined more tall replacements on the team.  "Oh, right—do you think you could play Keeper for a while?  We want to try Dennis out as Seeker."  The look on Harry's face made everyone else crack up.  "Don't…ha…worry…Harry!  Just…ha ha…kidding!"  Fred, laughing so hard tears ran down his face, could barely manage the words.

Harry felt miserable.  Everyone on his team hated him!  He thought he was crying, until he noticed their outlines were becoming blurrier.  Blinking, Harry noticed they'd turned into the Slytherin team.  Backing away, he ran into a chair, knocking him unconscious….

Gasping, Harry suddenly awakened.  That was the strangest dream he'd had since the one involving Uncle Vernon…wait, that wasn't a dream.  For a moment, he, Harry, wondered where Aunt Petunia and Dudley were, until he realized the dormitory was completely silent and light flooded through the windows.  Lifting his watch, he read 11:31.  'No!  I knew an alarm clock would be useful!'  Harry ran downstairs for breakfast, where no one even noticed he still had his pajamas on.  Instead, they were intently watching…_Ron and Cho_?!  Yes, Ron stood on the Gryffindor table, proclaiming his love for Cho, and Cho stood on the Ravenclaw table.  Before Harry could grab some breakfast, the platters and dishes vanished—along with Ron and Cho.  They came back a couple of minutes later, giggling and rather red-faced.  Harry wondered why they felt happy when he, Harry, felt sad.

Hermione ran up to him before Harry could think more self-centered thoughts, followed by Hermione.  Wai-i-it…Hermione followed by Hermione?  This couldn't be good.  Both held schedules, although the second one held two that seemed slightly larger.  They stopped a foot away and turned to one another.  The second Hermione said (to the first one), "Myrtle, are you in first-year classes?"  

Myrtle unhappily nodded.  "I'm not going to pull anything now, especially with Peeves to take care of it.  Look at this!  They gave me a third-year schedule with first-year main classes!  And I've got Double Divination first hour!"  She groaned.  "I don't think I want to meet Trelawney."

He, Harry, was astonished to see such emotion coming from a clone.  Before he could consider that she probably wasn't that evil, Hermione walked up to him and thrust his schedule forth.  "Here's your schedule," she said briskly.  "Ten minutes—you'd better get ready for Triple Potions."  Harry, still distracted by the lack of food, didn't look at the rest of his schedule (which would have told him who the new D.A.D.A. teacher was, of course).

"What?!  Why do we always have Double—or Triple—Potions first?"  Harry wondered what Triple Potions was, and eventually realized it was worse than Double.  Hermione, ignoring his sudden revelation, replied, "Because life is irony.  Honestly Harry, you don't pay attention anywhere except the Quidditch field.  Take your schedule!"  Harry took it with his left hand, and they went back to the Gryffindor tower to gather their books.  Ron followed a short while later, after quickly kissing Cho (conveniently, Harry didn't see any of this, otherwise he would have passed out again).

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all headed towards the normal dungeons, until Hermione had the presence of mind to check the location.  "Oh, look—we're going to _the_ dungeon.  This should be interesting."  They headed towards a larger dungeon, specially equipped to prevent leakages of poisonous gas, melting cauldrons, and so on.  At the door, Snape had his usual moody expression.  "Find a seat quickly, students.  We have to start immediately!"

The desks were arranged differently, in a half circle around the blackboard.  As soon as the last student entered, Snape slammed the door shut, where it melted into part of the wall.  Hermione, unlike the rest of her peers, noticed a strangely colored part of the floor that probably led to the bowels of the castle, where Advanced Potions was known to take place.

"Potter!  What is a bee-zoar?"  Harry rolled his eyes, actually knowing the answer this time—after all, he'd been asked the same thing first year—and replied correctly, he assumed.  "Potter!  Are you deaf?  I asked for a bee-zoar, not a bezoar!  Honestly, do I need to send you to the infirmary?"  At that moment, Hermione's hand shot up in the air, nailing Harry squarely in the nose.  "Oh my God!  Harry…I'm so sorry!  Professor, I think he needs to go to the infirmary!"  Snape rolled his eyes—even for his cynical attitude, this was a little much—and dismissingly waved his arm.  If that stuck-up Potter couldn't find his way out, it wasn't his problem.

Harry—with a great deal of aid from Hermione, who felt guilty—managed to find his way out of the dungeon.  To his surprise, he already was near the infirmary.  If he'd been Hermione, he instantly would have realized the dungeon had a Variable Portal attached, but he wasn't, so he had his nose fixed and eventually found his way back to the dungeon (but only after the completion of a third of the hour).

Meanwhile, Snape was rapidly dictating notes on Truth Potions, which would be part of the O.W.L.s.  After a quarter of an hour, he finally had them stop.  "All right, if you ingrates are ready, we shall now really begin learning about Truth Potions.  Since these potions are not allowed except under special permission, I'll make this interesting."  He grinned, a toothy smile that unsettled the Gryffindors—since when did Snape smile like normal people?—and said, "You shall be figuring out how to make Truth Potions with the help of books…in the Restricted Section."  Lavender, easily excited, screamed and fell out of her chair.  Pansy Parkinson began laughing evilly, until she too fell out of her seat onto her book bag, smashing the ink bottle within.

Ignoring those petty distractions, Snape led the class out of the door, which opened onto the library.  The Variable Portal impressed Hermione, as it was also concealed, implying a spell she'd read about first year in that book that also mentioned the Philosopher's Stone.  She knew how it was done, and remembered not to tell Myrtle.  Anyway…they would finally have a chance to read about important potions, not those petty changing draughts.  There was no substitute for these potions, and Hermione was excited—Myrtle seemed a little too kind lately.  After all, she'd willingly delivered the homework, and seemed interested in being at Hogwarts.

While the students pored through arcane texts—some were quite disturbing and caused Lavender to fall out of her seat again—Ron thought of something no one else had realized.  "Professor—aren't these books normally for seventh-year work?"  Snape was impressed that someone other than Malfoy had realized that, but he still didn't like Weasley.  "Yes, Weasley, but you should understand that we need to know these if we want to stop You-Know-Who."

Ron began laughing, remembering something.  "All we need to do is take his allergy medication!"  Malfoy, horrified at this insult of his Lord, glared at Ron, then noticed the rest of the class actually seemed amused.  "Come on, Crabbe and Goyle, we should leave.  Who wants to talk to these…witches and wizards?"  Malfoy briskly stepped towards the barrier that cut the Restricted Section off from the rest of the library—and crashed into an invisible wall.  "Get back to your research, Malfoy.  Even your father can't free you from this one."  Ron never passed up an opportunity to insult Malfoy.

The research continued normally after Malfoy attempted to return to his seat in a dignified manner, and Hermione, who had finished figuring out Veritaserum in about 5.43 minutes, was reading an extremely interesting text ('The Blockeing of Dangerous Curses', written in 1002 by Merlin).  Since nothing interesting is going on….  In the near-bowels of the castle (the real bowels were farther down), Harry repeatedly attempted to open the door to the dungeon.  He, Harry, tugged and tugged on the crack in the stone door—until he noticed a small sign that read 'Push'.  Harry, feeling slightly stupid but full (Madam Pomfrey had fed him, since she thought a rumbling stomach implied certain death), pushed it open.  A strange sight greeted his eyes—open sheets of parchment covered with notes on Truth Potions, but everything else was gone.  In shock, he pulled the door open…and wandered straight into Pansy.

"Hey!  What are you…if it isn't Harry Potter," Pansy said nastily.  The class ignored her, as they knew who he was perfectly well.  Besides, some of those truth potions seemed pretty interesting.  He, Harry, ran up to Snape and nearly knocked a bookshelf over.  "Uh, Professor, what are we doing?"

Snape frowned.  Didn't Potter have the intelligence to ask a student?  The child was so clumsy, it was a wonder he could handle a broomstick.  Even his father had acted far better than that!  Figuring Potter would just stand there until given direction, Snape looked down his nose—making Harry feel short once again—and said, "Miss Granger has found a simple Truth Potion you can attempt once we head back, and the notes we took in class today are available on page 458 of your textbook.  If you want a more complex potion, do it another day.  We have to head back now."  Snape called the class to order, and they headed through the door that had mysteriously appeared.  Back in the classroom, everyone had to turn in their instructions on how to complete the potions—where he pulled out his wand and set them on fire.  "Well, we'll see if you retained any knowledge of those potions.  Come on!"  Jumping three times on the strange patch in the floor led them down to an immense room that seemed to glow slightly, with odd fuzzy corners.  Snape explained that this effect was due to the amount of protective spells placed on the room, and they began work.

Hermione wasn't surprised to see all the materials they would need for their potions neatly arranged on each table.  She'd noticed the papers had been duplicated before burning, and it wasn't too hard to arrange the rest—just a small bit of Transfiguration, Charms, and a little help from someone as powerful as Dumbledore, of course.  She headed straight to her cauldron, which of course had the largest pile of ingredients.  Hermione's excellent memory served her well, as it took her only 15 minutes to perfectly arrange everything.  Ron was slightly struggling to recall when he had to put the bee-zoar in (his potion was almost as complex as Veritaserum, since no one had informed him of this difficulty).

Meanwhile, Neville zoomed through the preparation process—until puffs of smoke began blowing out of his cauldron.  Astonished, he slowly raised his shaking hand and said, "I-I'm done, Professor S-Snape."  Snape frowned, expecting the worst, but on examining the strange potion (basically, inhaling a puff of smoke would force one to answer any three questions truthfully), realized Neville had done it correctly.  Eyes widening, he unhappily said, "Twenty-five points to Gryffindor because Mr. Longbottom is the first to successfully complete the potion."  Malfoy was so horrified, he tipped his cauldron over onto Pansy, who ran around screaming until she was dragged to the Infirmary by Crabbe and Goyle (acting on Malfoy's orders, of course).

Harry had the worst time of it all.  He knew his simple potion, but couldn't carefully mince the two spiders because of his locked hand.  "Ron, will you help me?"  Ron walked over and considered it, until he noticed a slightly wriggling spider—he jumped back in horror, and turned full attention to his own cauldron.  Poor Harry clumsily sliced one of the spiders up, but the living one scuttled away to the safety of Aragog's home before he could stop it.  Surprisingly, another spider appeared—fortunately quite dead, of course.  Harry shakily completed his potion, which suddenly exploded.

"POTTER!  What are you doing?!" Snape really hoped the spells on the dungeon didn't need renewing after all the work that had been done in there to stop Voldemort's followers.  Harry, covered in soot, unhappily rose up and said, "I can't move my hand."  Snape rolled his eyes and merely said, "Clean up!  If your potions are still cooking, leave them."  Hermione, whose potion had just finished simmering, pulled out a strange crystal bottle, and poured a little in, making sure no one had seen her.  She then dumped the rest into the larger crystal container for safe storage.  For the first time in years, Snape had no assignments for them, so they left immediately.  Of course, Harry had to complete the notes, which did nothing to ameliorate his feelings after his cauldron exploded.  The small cut on his cheek had healed immediately due to the strangeness of the dungeon, so he headed to his next class with Hermione (Ron had gone down a different corridor to speak with Cho, and he really didn't want to come).

Their next class was Triple Charms after a fifteen-minute break.  Professor Flitwick wasted no time, having them immediately read from the textbook, until he saw Harry and walked over to his desk.  Only Professor Flitwick could make Harry feel tall, the tiny teacher only coming up to his shoulder.  "Harry, would you please check your schedule?"  In sudden astonishment, Harry realized Ron wasn't in, and since they had the same classes, he was probably in the wrong room.  Heart sinking, Harry opened his schedule, and read:

Triple Potions/Snape/secret dungeon

Triple Divination/Trelawney/North Tower

Triple D.A.D.A./Krum/Defense classroom

            Krum?!  Harry decided he didn't want to know more, and dashed out of the room to the Divination classroom.  As soon as he entered, Professor Trelawney gave him a tragic look, and said, "It is okay that you are late…I fear you shall not have many chances to come to class.  The alignment of your stars—please show me your predictions?"  Harry pulled the sheet out and handed it to her, suddenly realizing Snape had never collected the assignment.  Well, there was always a first for everything.  He collapsed on the cushion next to Ron's.

            Ron whispered, "Where were you?  This bat's driving me crazy.  Going on and on and on about how you already probably died a tragic death…good thing she's got too much to teach us to ramble on."  Trelawney, lost in gazing out the window for a moment, told the class to come watch her closely, as what she had to teach them would be on the O.W.L.s, the Fates had informed her.

            In front of her was a Ouija board.  "We shall be focusing our auras and power towards these, to communicate beyond the veil.  If you are truly fortunate and your power is great"—she glanced lovingly towards Lavender and Parvati, who smiled and straightened themselves—"you shall find the ability to communicate directly with the Fates.  Now, we shall begin by taking a deep breath…here goes…."  The board quivered slightly and raised an inch off the table, appearing mysterious and strange in the flickering firelight, but did nothing else.  Several people in the class including Seamus Finnigan fell asleep, and were startled awake when the bell rang.  "It seems some of you are casting a negative aura near the board.  We shall continue this next class!"  The class was dismissed, and on the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry explained what he'd done to Ron, who laughed hysterically and then calmed down enough to quickly wave to Cho (they didn't want Harry to collapse in the middle of the crowd because it would be inconvenient having to drag him upstairs).

            Once inside the large room, Hermione waved to them, grinning widely and also seated at the very front of the room, much to Ron's displeasure.  Krum, engaged in conversation with Hermione, beckoned for Harry and Ron to also sit in the front.  Ron groaned, but subsided to Harry's repeated tugging.

            "Okay class, as many of you know me, I am Victor Krum"—a couple of the girls sighed and swooned, but Hermione smiled at him—"and this is Defense Against the Dark Arts.  This year, you shall be learning mostly countercurses and shield spells, so vould everyone please go to page 29 in the text."  In horror, Harry realized he needed to take notes, so he raised his hand.  Krum took the spell off—Hermione hadn't explained the music—and Harry, relieved, began taking notes.

            Almost immediately, the entire class gave him exasperated looks.  Even Krum seemed pretty annoyed, and Hermione was poised, holding her thick book in a dangerous position above his head.  Harry groaned, and said, "But I need to take notes!"  Krum frowned and said, _"Ambidextri!"_.  Harry discovered he was able to write somewhat with his left hand, so he stuck his right hand in his pocket and continued taking notes.  Good thing he'd remembered to ask Madam Pomfrey if he could change before showing up to class in pajamas.

            Half the class had ended when Krum told them to stop, and they discussed what the chapter talked about.  The class passed normally, and Harry and Ron went to the Great Hall for dinner—classes ran far longer because of all the preparation they would need for the O.W.L.s—while Hermione hung back to chat with Krum.  Harry wished he could talk to Krum too, but decided he didn't want to be beaten up by someone a full head taller than him.  Dinner was uneventful—except for the stir created by Hermione and Krum walking in holding hands—and everyone exhaustedly went back to their dormitories.

            In bed, Harry drifted to sleep, but was awakened by an extreme pain shooting through his scar.  A dark figure loomed over him and bent closer, so close he could feel hot breath on his face….

*A/N: Wasn't that special.  I hate cliffhangers too, but this is too good of a chapter ending to pass up!  R&R…just no complaining of how awful this story is.  That's cruelty to midget people like myself.*


	7. Chapter 7 The Unexpected Visitor

Chapter 7.  The Unexpected Visitor.

            Harry suddenly realized his scar hurt so much because he'd attempted to wear a shoe after Madam Pomfrey cured him, and the shoe's opening was far smaller than the standard pointy dunce cap he finally put on later.  But who was the visitor?  Harry reached over to the end table and scrabbled around until he found the lever, which caused a small light to appear above the table.

            The person standing there was none other than Remus Lupin, the former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and a resident werewolf (but only on full moons).  He grinned and said, "Hi Harry!  How's it going?"  He, Harry, still happened to be slightly groggy, so he mumbled that he was fine, just a little exhausted.  Lupin's smile slowly faded away as Harry attempted to form the correct words.  "Look, Harry, you know how we went on that mission?  Oh, right—I managed to convince Mundungus to join, but I couldn't talk to Alice McMillan or a couple of our other friends.  Since you haven't heard about Alice…she was a really nice…and smart…and intelligent…and pretty witch who was helping us find some of Voldemort's supporters."  Lupin seemed slightly distracted when talking about Alice's qualities; Harry suddenly wondered why everyone seemed to have a 'close friend' except him.  Remembering something quite abruptly, Lupin straightened his back and said, in an unusually low voice, "Sirius is in danger.  They…they found him."

            Harry felt extremely worried; Sirius Black, his godfather, was an escaped convict guaranteed death—or a fate even worse—if found.  These two short sentences served to wake him up quite suddenly.  "Who caught him?  Where?  How's he doing?"

            Lupin said, "Shut up Harry; you sound like a reporter.  Let me explain…"

—Lupin explains—

            "We were in a small forest near Wales trying to find what had happened to some of our older friends.  Of course, Sirius was disguised as a dog; the entire magical world knows who he is, almost the way they know you—except you're famous and he's infamous.  So…we heard the sound of this car, and I asked him if he would investigate quickly.

            "Unfortunately, it was the local dog catchers, and since Sirius obviously wouldn't have a tag or anything, they took him away.  Realizing what had happened when he started barking loudly, I ran out, but it was too late.  Sirius was gone."

—Lupin finishes—

            Lupin's head sunk lower and lower as he detailed each part of the story.  Harry's eyes grew wider, all notions of sleep banished at this awful happening.  He couldn't imagine poor Sirius curled up in a kennel, having to spend time with real dogs.  "Where is he, Lupin?"  Lupin looked up, suddenly seeming less depressed.  Pulling out a map and his wand, he showed Harry a location extremely close to Hogwarts, in a Muggle town called –Shire.  "Oh…why don't you go there and say you want to 'adopt' Sirius?"

            Lupin smiled.  "Brilliant plan, Harry!  But…I don't have any Muggle money and I really have no idea how to talk to them.  I know!  I'll just knock them unconscious, take Sirius, and leave—as long as the Ministry doesn't notice.  Oh, right—Dumbledore will probably want to know about this.  Get some rest, then, Harry."

            Harry lay silently for a couple of minutes, then noticed something white and fluttering stuck to the bedpost.  He pulled it off and read (intelligently, Harry had forgotten to turn off the light), 'Quidditch practice—5 a.m.  Be there!'  Oops.  In that case, Harry figured he'd better sleep immediately.  Noting the presence of light, he brilliantly turned it off and drifted off into uneasy dreams of Sirius in a kennel with real dogs.  'Poor Snuffles,' was his last thought before he fell into a really deep and absolutely wonderful sleep.

            The next morning, after exactly 3 hours, 9 minutes, and 34.3009823 seconds of sleep, Harry ran downstairs, where the rest of the team was quietly munching toast.  Harry wondered why the toast didn't make much noise, but he wasn't up to thinking.  Fred and George grinned upon seeing him, and pointed him towards a chair that he cautiously inspected before finally sitting upon.  Suddenly, he felt odd, like he was floating, and then realised the chair really was floating.  "Fred!  George!"  The twins laughed and Fred pressed a tiny knob on the edge of a chair, bringing it down.  He actually pulled the knob out, revealing that it was an attachment.  Angelina, the new captain, said, "No vending at the table!"  The twins looked depressed, but returned to the delectable-looking toast.

            While they ate, Harry asked, "Who's the new Keeper?  I'm guessing Angelina's the captain, but we really need a Keeper."  Alicia, another one of the Chasers, said, "We're actually not sure.  Colin Creevey volunteered, but he's a little…er…_small_.  Besides, they might not even have Quidditch this year!"

            He, Harry was horrified (ooh…Harry…horror…they're spelled kind of the same!).  "What?!  No Quidditch cup?!"  Alicia shrugged.  "How is the author expected to come up with more ideas and characters for this?  Oh, which reminds me…we're considering Seamus Finnigan for the team too.  He's reasonably good, but Fred and George recommended Ron."

            Harry thought it would be wonderful if Ron joined the team; what could be more entertaining?  Ron loved Quidditch, after all.  But for now, the dew-covered field, cleared of last year's maze—which he didn't want to think about—awaited their presence.  Two hours later, the team went back in, changed, and joined everyone else for breakfast.

            Hermione wasn't there.  Neither was her 'twin', Myrtle.  Harry ran straight to Ron and asked him what happened.  Ron scowled, and said, "They're probably talking to Krum or something like that, wait—never mind.  Krum's eating breakfast with the other teachers, and I don't see Hermione fawning all over him.  I mean, he's just the best Quidditch player…oh look, there's Cho.  Talk to you later."  Harry decided to follow Ron so he could make sure they didn't kiss or anything.  After all, this relationship was short-term, wasn't it?

            Harry suddenly remembered Sirius's situation as he followed Ron, poked him in the back, and explained everything.  Just short of the Ravenclaw table, Ron's eyes grew huge, but to Harry's astonishment, he began snickering.  "Wow—never imagined…hee…something like that could bother an Animagus.  Oh well, a first time for everything, isn't there?"  Sobering up, Ron continued, "Don't worry…I'm sure Dumbledore can take care of everything."  As if on cue (they probably were, if you think about it…) a large black dog bounded into the hall, forcing some students to jump out of the way.  "Snuffles!" Harry and Ron exclaimed at the same time, then, "That was cool.  I wonder if we could talk like that again?"  Sirius's sudden loud barking interrupted the interesting thought.  They went up to their dormitory (after Ron grabbed something to eat, of course), where Sirius changed into his normal self.  He looked extremely tired, and there was a tear in his almost-clean robes.  "What happened, Sirius?" Ron asked before Harry could say anything, and Sirius began explaining the situation.


	8. Chapter 8 A Brief Interlude

*A/N: Yay for house-elves!*

Chapter 8.  A Brief Interlude.

            Dobby, down in the kitchens frantically stirring a fragrant soup, glanced with slight concern over to Winky.  After all the events last year, and her sudden shock at Mr. Crouch's wrongdoings, she was as dazed as if she'd drunk a barrel of butterbeer.  "Is Winky doing all right?  She _needs_ some rest!"  Winky didn't even respond, she just looked with unfocused eyes at a nearby brick wall, ran over, and started smashing her head against it.  Dobby stopped her before she passed out, shook her violently, and sat her down right in the middle of a beautiful dessert intended for the Slytherin table (some experts believe this was an accident, but as there was a perfectly empty seat nearby, it is seriously doubted).  "Wake up, Winky!  What has you done to yourself?"

            Winky, finally coming to her senses, looked at Dobby mournfully and said, "Winky has no need to exist.  Nobody is there for Winky now!"  She began wailing, nearly upsetting Dobby's tea cosy, which he immediately straightened.  As if he'd just realised something, he looked at Winky strangely and said, "But Dobby shall always be there for Winky, if she wants him."

            There was no immediate response to this sort of talk.  After all, how could a respectable house-elf like Winky talk to a…_freedom_-desiring house-elf like Dobby?  But…she'd heard about his experiences at the Malfoy residence, and realised how awful his old family really was.  In fact, listening to him, Winky pitied his experiences.  She wondered what her family would think of a house-elf like Dobby.  In fact, she could just ask her brother Rixy, who was also in the kitchens.  Jerking out of Dobby's grasp on her shoulder, she walked over to a nearby table, where Rixy was frantically chopping vegetables.

            "Rixy!  Me needs to talk to you!"  Rixy frowned and looked at Winky.  "Is you not understanding that I is working now?!" he said semi-angrily.  "Come later when I is not so busy!"  Then, in a softer tone, "How is you doing?"  Winky smiled joyfully and said, "Great, because…you shall see later."  Rixy wondered why his sister was so happy.  Scratching his tomato-shaped nose that made them look almost identical, Rixy returned to work.

            Two hours later, Winky and Dobby were creating wedding invitations using their magic.  Three would also be sent to Hermione—even though many of the house-elves were still afraid of her—Harry, and Ron.  As custom dictated, every single resident house-elf was required to come and bring a present.  Even though humans normally didn't attend the weddings, the happy couple decided they could make exceptions.  After all, they shouldn't have been marrying in the first place, since their clans knew each other well—but who would notice?

            The wedding was set for December 30th, a Saturday only three months away.  The house-elves were planning something grand, without a doubt.

*A/N: Aww…wasn't that a cute ending.  So unlike me.  sighs and then returns to the eating of fine chocolates*


	9. Chapter 9 Of Journeys and Mud

*A/N: Uhh…yeah.  R&R please!*

Chapter 9.  Of Journeys and Mud.

            Unaware of the exciting murmurs spreading in the kitchens and among all Hogwarts' house-elves, Sirius was explaining to a very intent Ron and Harry what he and Lupin had done over the summer.  "Well, you know we had to deal with"—his disgusted look indicated extreme displeasure—"Snape.  But that wasn't for too long, as he was mostly following the Death Eaters and Lupin and I couldn't attend for the obvious reasons.  Instead, we went through all Europe, searching for classmates who would listen to us.  You know that couldn't be easy; who in their right mind would trust an escaped convict and a werewolf?

            "But surprisingly enough, the first person we tried to convince agreed almost immediately.  You've heard of Mundungus Fletcher; he was one of our closer friends.  When we explained what was going on, he agreed to help us and to also recruit others.  This was in London, shortly after the summer term started.  Even though we wanted to stay and talk to him, it was more important to have as many allies as possible, so Lupin and I left two nights later on the Knight Bus.

            "In Paris, Lupin managed to lose his way on the Metro since he can't speak French."  Sirius seemed highly amused by this; evidently something interesting had happened.  "We were to meet Alice, but ended up at the Notre Dame asking passing tourists where the Eiffel Tower was.  In retrospect, it was actually quite amusing, as we could see the Eiffel Tower from where we were, but anyway….  Eventually, someone stopped to help us.  Of course, it was a Ministry wizard sent by Dumbledore to retrieve us.  After giving Lupin a long lecture on being excessively proud of his navigational abilities, the wizard left us in front of the Tower, where a person stood in front of us.

            "Lupin seemed slightly…overexcited to see Alice, who blushed when he hugged her."  Sirius giggled a little more, remembering school days with her and Lupin.  "Alice took us back to her hotel, where an extra room in our name was already set up.  We decided to rest after our wonderful day at the Notre Dame, and in the middle of the night, I noticed loud thumps on the wall.  They seemed to be coming from Alice's room, so we ran in…and saw…."  Sirius turned red, possibly in anger, but probably not.  "Alice was talking to her boyfriend.  They were slightly drunk, and he'd thrown the bottle against the wall.  Of course, this was too much for our wonderful Master Lupin, who fainted.

            "I told Alice not to worry, and dragged him back to my room, but that was when I remembered…I'd left the key in Alice's room.  So we sat out in the hallway—Lupin woke up after a few minutes, of course—and waited for Alice to open the door.  Instead, Arabella Figg walked out.  Remember that old lady who lives near you?  Arabella's her daughter.  At any rate…it seemed Arabella had used Polyjuice Potion or something to change into Alice, and she seemed quite intent on speaking with us.  Remus, being himself, was extremely disappointed to not see Alice anywhere, but he was relieved she wasn't dating anybody."  Sirius snorted—that Lupin.  Always trying to impress Alice even though she never would have dated him.  Anyway…

            "Arabella smiled strangely at us, although at the time we didn't suspect anything.  After all, Alice had served as an Unspeakable, and you know how that goes.  Assuming the best, Lupin and I agreed to come to her manor, where a small colony of house-elves awaited us.  To our surprise, they dragged us down to the cellar and warned us not to move.  I don't think they wanted to harm us or anything, but you know how house-elves will be."  Briefly, all three of them imagined Hermione's stern lecture, and shuddered.  Collecting himself, Sirius explained how he and Lupin had escaped through a tunnel—"Wasn't it intelligent of Arabella to have her cellar built with dirt walls close to ground level.  Now, of course, Lupin _insisted _on finding Alice before anything worse happened.  That's where we came to Wales…and…all I'm going to say is, I pity Muggle dogs—does either of you know what 'neutering' is?  It sounded quite unpleasant."  Harry, having a slight knowledge of these things thanks to Aunt Marge, attempted to stifle his laughter.  Evidently, there were many disadvantages to turning into a dog.

"Let's go down to the commons room, shall we?" Ron interrupted, wondering why Harry seemed so amused.  Probably wasn't best to ask, however; maybe he'd seen Ron's uncomfortable fall out of his bed.  As they walked down—Sirius as a dog, of course—someone covered in mud ran towards them and knocked all three over, Harry being at the bottom.  Instantly on guard, he pulled out his wand, only to discover he couldn't move much while pinned under two people much larger than he.  Meanwhile, the strange figure, face hidden by shadows from the firelight, pulled out a wand, and began saying arcane words.  'This can't be any better than Azkaban,' Sirius thought as a shape materialized out of the smoke exuding from the wand.

*A/N: Whee…I'm back….Wonder who the 'stranger' could be?  Wait…I know the answer…never mind.  I think I'll retreat back to the safety of my closet now.*


	10. Chapter 10 Wasn't expecting that one!

Chapter 10.  Wasn't Expecting That One!

            Strangely enough, the box appeared to be a simple affair found at any Muggle pharmacy.  Ron, struck with a sudden idea as to what it was, shifted so he could clearly see the stranger's face, allowing Harry to breathe before he passed out.  (Ron had borrowed Hermione's book on Muggle Studies and understood much more about Muggles, enabling him to visit his second cousin, who very shamefully happened to be an accountant.  But that's another story.)

            The mud-covered person was none other than Hermione…or was it?  After all, she and Myrtle looked identical, so it could be either.  Harry, finally able to see who stood above, shuddered and curled into the fetal position, being careful not to even shift his right hand.  He really didn't feel like being kicked unconscious at the moment.  Myrtle—for it was she—ignored him, although she had to resist the temptation to freeze him like that for the next six hours.  "Uh…which one of you is Ron Weasley?"  Confused, Ron stood up.  "Oh"—she bowed oddly, as taught in the strange place she'd lived in (not related to any real cultures)—"in that case, you should probably explain this to Dumbledore."  Myrtle handed him the prescription box that read, in small letters on the side, 'Allegra'.  Ron wondered what 'Allegra' meant, but he figured it could be the name of some Muggle allergy medicine.

            "Er…okay.  D'you know what the password to his office is?"  Myrtle looked slightly downcast, but merely ordered Ron, Harry, and Sirius to follow her.  "Which one are you, anyway?"  Myrtle (obviously) said she was Myrtle.  "Then where's Hermione?"  Before Myrtle could deny his question, they arrived near a small room, evidently the teachers' meeting place.  Before they entered, Sirius conveniently disappeared after Myrtle went in and transformed into the huge black dog.  There, Dumbledore immediately stood up, a twinkle in his eyes.

            "So, Ron, would you like to explain to the Minister of Magic why this"—he held up the Allegra—"shall cause the defeat of Lord Voldemort?"  Cornelius Fudge, who still unfortunately happened to be the Minister of Magic, snorted.  "Voldemort never rose, I tell you!  That _boy_"—he pointed to Harry, who made a face (but only mentally)—"is just striving for attention!"

            Snape, who also just happened to be there, strode up to Fudge and demanded, "Then why is _this_ showing?"  Next to the Dark Mark, a rather ugly sign, was a tiny little smiley face that read, 'I'm back.'  Fudge (obviously) had no response to this one, so he sat down, bowler hat nearly falling off in the process.  Finally, Ron had a chance to explain what had greatly amused him for the past four months.  "Uh—Voldemort's allergic to pollen and ragweed, so if he doesn't have this medicine, he can't do anything without collapsing into a fit of sneezes!"  Ron felt extremely intelligent inside.  Perhaps his father would even receive a raise with his outstanding performance!

            Ron's happiness, however, was scattered like dust in a hurricane when Fudge merely looked confused.  "What is an—_allergy_, I believe you said?"  Before Ron could say anything, Myrtle's hand rose in the air exactly like Hermione's, and then dropped, just the way Hermione had done on the train at the beginning of their journey to an extremely peculiar fifth year.  Anyway…coughs Myrtle explained in great detail how allergies could only occur to people with Muggle blood, and began sounding like a biology textbook when she delved into the details involving histamines and whatnot.

Finally, poor Cornelius Fudge could take it no longer.  "All right then!" he shouted, trying to rein his screaming nerves in.  "I understand—my goodness, Muggles must have a terrible time comprehending their own world if they make it so complicated!  So what you're telling me is You-Know-Who"—he shuddered a little in fear—"is, er, _allergic_ to this pollen stuff?  And that box contains a potent spell to cause his _allergies_ to flare up?"  Fudge spoke as if 'allergy' were some odd foreign word, and seemed like he planned to revert to hand motions (which had greatly amused the Belgian Minister of Magic at the World Cup, just so everyone remembers this entirely useless fact).  Actually, 'allergy' was a foreign word to Fudge; he'd never had much contact with Muggles.

Satisfied with this skewed explanation, Myrtle merely nodded her head.  Dumbledore suddenly stood up, raised his wand, and said, "Then we shall confer the Order of the Phoenix upon you for bringing the Allegra back, Ron for discovering this about Voldemort"—Fudge nearly collapsed and the strange black dog seemed to laugh, much to Snape's annoyance—"and Hermione for planting hordes of ragweed and flowers in full bloom—particularly pansies—around Voldemort's hideout."  This time, Cornelius really did fall off his chair, but this was due to extreme surprise.  "Order…phoenix…just children…" he gasped before fainting dramatically.  To everyone's great surprise, Madam Pomfrey materialized out of the fireplace (which was unlit) and dragged Fudge away to the Infirmary.

Suddenly, Harry realized something that displeased his mightily important persona greatly.  "What about me?!  Didn't _I _do anything important?"  Dumbledore looked slightly annoyed yet resigned, as if he had known this would happen.  Once again, he, Harry wondered about what powers Dumbledore might have.  After all, given the time, he could probably master those.

"Harry, you already received a Special Award for Services to the School.  Besides, you did not engage in the _final_ defeat of Voldemort; you actually helped him come back with more power than before!  Honestly boy, one can't have everything!  You no longer have your aunt and cousin to contend with, you're famous, and so on!  Oh, look…I'm becoming excited.  Deep breaths…focus…" Dumbledore settled into a yoga stance and began meditating (his seventy-eight Pensieves were all full, so he needed _something_ else…).

Before they could say anything further, a large wildcat ran into the room.  However, it could not have been a normal wildcat; its fur was unnaturally bushy and quite brown.  Although only a feline expert would have understood this, everyone in the room understood they weren't looking at a normal animal.  Before Ron could figure out what was happening (Harry still was feeling depressed, Myrtle already knew the truth, Sirius really didn't care, and Snape had left to speak with Fudge), the wildcat transformed into a person he knew well, with brown bushy hair and no-longer-oversized teeth.  She grabbed the first chair available and said, "Well then, I suppose I'm back."

Dumbledore smiled.  "Now, we shall unofficially confer the Order of the Phoenix upon all three of you."  Harry, hearing this again, accidentally twitched his right hand.  Before anyone else could react, Hermione kicked him and rendered him unconscious again.  Myrtle, remembering that she had cast the spell, walked over to Harry's unconscious form and removed the spell—'That should keep him alive to finish term'.  Hermione, still seething, finally managed to calm down and pulled out the strange crystal bottle, remembered she wouldn't need it yet, and put it back.

Ron couldn't wait any longer.  After all, he didn't have anything to do, and sitting there made him antsy.  "Uh, Professor…the awards?"  Dumbledore pulled out his wand, and opened Fawkes's cage.  Phoenix music filled the air, and a burst of flames accompanied by an immense cloud of smoke obscured the scene.  When everything finally cleared, Hermione, Ron, and Myrtle looked exactly the same.  "Nothing happened!  Was this some farce?" Ron asked, with a question mark at the end of his question.  After all, Ron's father had never mentioned this award before, so he doubted its existence.  Dumbledore shook his head and wordlessly pointed to the tip of Ron's wand.  Ron suddenly realised his wand had a tiny phoenix feather at the casting end, and suddenly looked extremely pleased, imagining Cho's reaction.  As if Dumbledore had read his mind (which he probably had), he said, "All of you must not tell anyone, no matter what!  This award confers more power upon you and your spells, so if anyone wonders why the effects of spells you cast are stronger, then try to come up with a creative response.  And yes, you shall learn about the other special properties of this later.  Although the Order of the Phoenix is one conferred only upon children, it is equivalent to the Order of Merlin, Second Class."  All three of them, impressed by this news, wondered how Harry would react upon finding out.

They discovered the solution to this rapidly, as Harry arose, yawned, and (happily) discovered his hand no longer produced any noise.  Dumbledore quietly left the room for some reason, leaving it up to the three to explain what was happening.  Before they could, however, Sirius walked up in his normal form and plopped himself onto the nearest cushion.  "Aah…that's better.  Oh, right—congratulations for the award."  "What award?" Harry nearly screamed.  Ron, being his only actual guy friend, explained everything, attempting to downplay it as much as possible.  "It's not fair!  I mean, I've defeated Voldemort five times!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "Yes, but you didn't permanently defeat him."  She giggled.  "I don't think he can do much anymore…the nurses at the local Muggle hospital confined him to a room because they think he's insane.  Keeps trying to perform curses, you see."  He, Harry, wondered if it really was that easy to defeat Voldemort.  After all, if the most powerful witches and wizards of the age hadn't vanquished him, then how could the disappearance of some allergy medicine do anything?  Before Harry had even the slightest chance to throw a tantrum, Dumbledore re-entered the room along with Professor McGonagall.  "Now, Harry, either I can Transfigure the title of this story and make it into 'Hermione Granger and the Order of the Phoenix', or we can leave it the way it is."  Harry eagerly nodded to the second option.  McGonagall looked at Dumbledore.  "It's all yours, then.  Have fun."  She left the room, but only after a soft-hearted look at Hermione, who really was her favourite student (not that she picked favourites, but still…).

Much to his delight, Harry had the Semi-Order of the Phoenix conferred upon him.  Harry didn't notice the 'semi' part, but that was mainly because he had concentrated his full attention upon the entire award idea.  Little did Harry consider the interesting effects the 'semi' would have….

Still slightly peeved at Harry for stealing her brief spotlight, Hermione stalked out of the room, probably back to her dormitory.  Myrtle slouched in the large armchair in front of Dumbledore's desk; evidently, she needed to speak with Dumbledore about something—or was it the other way around?  Harry, Ron and Sirius all left the room together, not considering the latter of the two ideas, and parted in the Gryffindor commons room so Sirius could talk to a busily working Hermione (of course she was waiting in the commons room, as if she'd known he had something to say…).


End file.
